


These Scars that Keep Bleeding Despite Werewolf Healing

by Duress



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Good Guy Scott McCall, Helplessness, M/M, Supportive Allison, Supportive Scott, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 22:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duress/pseuds/Duress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Surely becoming a werewolf would make Stiles less of a nuisance to the pack even if it was against his will. How cruel would it be if it just made everything worse? It's not as if he contributed much in the way of physical force, but what happens if he was taken out of the equation all together? What will he do when he cannot protect those he loves most?</p>
<p>This AU premise was conceived pre-season 3. (Rating and Characters will be changed/added to with later Chapters).</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Scars that Keep Bleeding Despite Werewolf Healing

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking this out! This is currently a WIP and I want to see if anyone can actually sign on to this idea before I move any further. The idea came to me before season 3 and I started working it all out, so it will be inconsistent with the show... sorry! Comment, kudos, and criticize. I do not have a beta, so there will inevitably be mistakes. I try to self-edit, but I can't get everything. I hope you enjoy!

Claiming is a process by which an animal marks something in order to stave off potential competitors; this could be achieved through the sense of smell, e.g. licking, urinating, or anything that would replace a current scent with an animal’s own. The facts rattled in Stiles’ head while he thought of anything to distract himself from the alternative, an alternative that he no longer had the choice to.

His nightmare had come true and everything was in ruin. He was human in this world that seemed to become increasingly dominated by the werewolves, who crawled in from every corner of the world to threaten his humanity. Each peril reminded him that he wasn’t strong enough to protect the ones he loved. But the way he saw it, humanity was not his weakness and as long as he could keep his promise to himself, all would be right in the world.

But here he was, in the clutches of cruel fate grasping for the promises that he could not keep. Because he was bitten… used… and all tattered up, completely at the mercy of this alpha pack. Bitten… Each wolf had taken their turn making non-lethal markings on him. He had stopped struggling after they broke his wrist with the first bite because he knew he was screwed. It was all over and the best thing he could do was go to some other place; a place where the warmth that embraced him was humming the life and the soothing sounds of a familiar voice enraptured him. This was a place before panic attacks, outside the influence of werewolves and the deep emptiness that he consistently held with him in his core. He wished it would all be over, that they would make a mistake and accidentally kill him instead so that he could stay in this place.

But in his heart and in the back of his mind he knew. He knew that he had failed his unspoken promise to the person embracing him, and that his subsequent promise would also be broken. Because Stiles had promised… after his mother’s death, he promised that he would never allow himself to feel powerless again… Powerless to protect the ones he loved, powerless to control himself. And that was why he had refused to bite for so long because once you were a werewolf, you were no longer in control; fear, anger, love, the alpha, and everything else that took your choices away from you. Yet he knew that he would survive and that the bites would take, just so the cruel gods would laugh at the downfall of yet another promise.

He was a mere game piece, a pawn in the midst of an epic battle between two packs, his own and the alphas’, but he had been careless… stupid. Never in his wildest nightmares did he believe that they would attack him on a Friday afternoon, in broad daylight, right outside of his house. Taking him and claiming him as their own, a power play to show Derek the true extent of his weakness; bringing to light his inability to even protect his subordinates. The plan was true genius if Stiles could admit it to himself. They brought him out of commission, unable to do anything against the Alphas due to the sheer influence they had as his creator. He could no longer be part of Derek or Scott’s pack as long as the alphas stuck around, but they would not keep him. It was an alpha pack after all, and he was a mere toy; something to be used and thrown away. So here was Stiles Stilinski, the eternal outsider looking in on the world of werewolves, finally on the inside with no pack, more alone than ever before. The boy who ran with wolves becomes the wolf who stands alone.

-

As the sound of rushing water slowly ebbs away, the edges of his vision start to fade back in. He wishes he wasn’t conscious because he’s entire being is consumed by the fire coursing through his veins, splitting each of his nerves to pieces. There is not one part of his body that doesn’t ache and he lets out a scream, which comes out as more of a strangled moan as his head lulls to one side. His throat is too parched to form proper sound and the mere effort of making noise exhausts his air supply. Suddenly he’s coughing and the movements make him painfully aware of his brain rattling against his skull. He turns inwards, trying to escape. 

“Shh” the voice blankets him in familiarity, and surrounds him in safety. Slowly, he allows his senses to explain his surroundings. He hears the crunch of leaves under heavy boots, smells a mixture of blood, musk, leather, fresh air, and fear. There isn’t a spot in his mind that is able to quantify that last bit of information, so he shuts it down. As he forces his eyelids half open, all he can see are the long cords of sinewy neck muscle, the bottom of stubbly chin and patches of buffered leather. Strong hands are pressing soft wet cloth against a particularly painful part of his own neck, the pressure telling him that it was meant to stop some sort of bleeding. He shuts his eyes, buckling under the immense effort it took to open them. Of course it would be Derek who finds him.

-

When he comes to, he’s surrounded by the warmth of bodies with Scott’s tan arms pulling him against a broad chest and Allison’s head ducked underneath his chin. The literal warmth turns figurative in his mind and there is a pleasant sort of pressure that tugs at his soul. He recognizes Scott’s room. The eggshell wallpaper looks slightly yellow under the light filtering in from the blinds. He hears Scott’s mother humming to herself while working on something in the kitchen, hears the two steady heartbeats that surround him, and that’s when it hits him. He shouldn’t be able to hear those things, but what is even stranger is his ability to process the information piece by piece unlike his the normal flood of information that comes to his brain. Not everything is completely coherent and his mind is still racing at a mile a minute, but it feels as if he’d already taken his Adderall for the day. Pressing his head back against the pillow, he tries to organize the information. To his relief, the pain that had encased him earlier seemed to have subsided. He wasn’t dead; which, now in his clearer mindset, he admits is a relief. He had wolfy powers which meant that he wasn’t immune. Derek had saved him and now somehow he had ended up in his best friend’s room being cuddled by said best friend and his on again off again girlfriend. Derek had saved him. Unable to sort that bit, he pushed it to the back of his mind. Now why was he in Scott’s bedroom?

In his deep thought, he hadn’t even noticed the increase in pace of Scott’s heartbeat. “Dude, even without your heartbeat, I can practically hear your mind screaming right now.” The voice was gravelly and tired with a hint of worry on the tail end. Stiles lifted his body up on an elbow and turned until he was nearly nose to nose with Scott. Puppy dog eyes stared back into his.

“Sorry… it’s not every day that you suddenly wake up a werewolf.” He whispered, trying not to wake Allison behind him. He tried for nonchalant, but the ridges forming above Scott’s brow told him that he didn’t succeed. “Really, I’m okay.” He didn’t know if he was trying to convince Scott or himself. His own heart told him he wasn’t lying, which actually came as quite a bit of a surprise. Scott relaxed visibly but not completely, unconsciously wrinkling his nose.

“It’s Sunday. Your dad thinks you spent the weekend at my house.” He hesitated, “You smell like… other.” He added as gently as possible while waving a hand between the three of them. Insanely enough, it explained his unvoiced question. Scott and Allison were trying to replace _their_ scent with a familiar one. The thought made Stiles draw his mouth into a fine line. It was probably difficult for Scott to be around him right now. He didn’t know how long they had been in this bed together, but if he still smelled like the alphas, there was a chance that it would never really go away. He immediately halted the stinging that started at the corners of his eyes.

“Thanks”, he said with as much gratitude as he could. Scott just nodded. In the years that they had known each other, Scott had partitioned an area of Stiles’ brain and camped himself there. While he hadn’t always made himself available as a friend more recently and he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, Stiles always knew that Scott would have his back. When Scott closed his eyes again, Stiles was determined to take a shower.

Closing the door behind him, he quickly removed every article of clothing: torn undershirt, socks, shredded jeans, and boxers. When he finally looked up, the mirror greeted him with a body that he did not fully recognize. He was still lean, but each of his existing muscles was much more defined. This was a body that his previously meager constitution would not have been able to come up with in years. He had pecs and _damn_ , abs too. No matter how hard he tried, he could not tamp down the excitement of these perks. Instead, he tried to busy himself with the arduous task of showering.

When he was under the hot spray, he was determined to get the smell off of him. He scrubbed hard with Scott’s loofah, shutting himself off from his extraordinary senses. He wasn’t surprised when the taste of iron touched his tongue and the smell of blood mingled with the soap and humidity. Several parts of his body were bleeding simultaneously, but he didn’t stop thanks to his new healing abilities. When he had finally finished, he felt raw, as if the skin he wore was entirely different than what he had entered with. Perhaps it was. The shower was running cold down his overheated skin, blood mingling just beneath the surface providing an odd tingling sensation while repairing the damage he had caused. As he got out, he tossed the loofah into the waste basket. He would buy Scott another one.

Allison’s gone by the time he gets out; something to do with her dad and the alphas. It must have been hard for Scott, having to be around her with their breakup. Scott turns around and freezes when Stiles opens the door, and Stiles knows when the smell of blood hits him. Knows that he sees the unnatural flush of Stiles’ skin. With the sympathetic look in his eyes, Stiles was sure that Scott knew.

**Author's Note:**

> If I do continue with this story, I hope to add the rest of the pack and some other major characters. I do have the general direction and tone that I want this story to have (that has a word document of its own). I understand that this chapter was short, but I hope you enjoyed it regardless. If I continue with this, expect them to be longer. Thanks again for reading!


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